Sam looked up, profoundly satisfied. All the cells were growing. He deposited them into flasks prepared with nutrients, and then put the flasks into the incubator set at 37 degrees centigrade. Inside, a controlled amount of carbon dioxide would help the cells grow into embryos. After five days, stem cells would be ready to be extracted. There was nothing left to do but wait.
Sam pulled off his gloves and mask, and went to his duffel bag on the floor. Inside, buried under a pile of socks, was a lined notebook. He dug it out, grabbed a pen, and sat on the edge of his cot, placing the flimsy notebook on his lap. Toward the back, past pages of his scientific scrawls, was the first blank page.
“Dear Arianna,” he wrote, in his neatest cursive. He paused. Was he really going to tell her? What about Trent—what was the point? But he thought about the adoring way she had looked at him all afternoon, the way she had tightened her arms around his neck and thrown her head back with pure elation. It seemed impossible that any other man could make her as happy as he had today. She and Trent had known each other only a few months, anyway; how attached could she be? Besides, in a week, what else would he have left in the world to treasure? If he yielded her to Trent without even trying … No. He was ready to be done losing women he loved.
He held his pen to the page again, letting a blot grow before beginning to write. “There’s something on my mind that I—” No, he thought, and ripped out the page. Another clean one was waiting behind it. “Dear Arianna,” he wrote again. “It’s taken me a long time to realize I want to tell you this, but—” Definitely not. How the hell was he supposed to say this?
He ripped out the page and started over for a third time. “Dear Arianna,” he wrote, in his own messy print. “I hope this is the last weekend of your life that you have to suffer.”
* * *
The next morning, Sam arrived at Arianna’s apartment for the group’s scheduled meeting to discuss the transfer procedure. She looked rested and happy as she welcomed him inside, moving in her wheelchair with adept grace. Dr. Ericson and Emily were already sitting at the kitchen table, helping themselves to a spread of bagels, cream cheese, and lox that Arianna had arranged.
“Wow,” Sam said. “We should have always met at your place.”
“Help yourself. I bet you haven’t eaten since we ordered lunch yesterday.”
“You know me too well.” As he sat down at the table, he felt the crunch of folded paper in his jeans pocket.
“So how are the cells?” Dr. Ericson asked.
“Perfect. Four of them are growing according to plan. We lost one overnight to the stress of the procedure, but the others are stable. And we only need one, so I’m not worried.”
“Good,” Dr. Ericson said. “So let’s get down to business. I want us to get all the details straight.”
Sam smiled. He had always liked the doctor, a man who got right to the point and never worried if he was too abrupt.
Arianna wheeled herself between Sam and Emily, who picked up her hand and squeezed it.
“This is so exciting,” Emily whispered.
Sam wrung his hands under the table. “Bottom line is that the cells should drain intravenously into her spinal cord between vertebrates four and five.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Dr. Ericson agreed.
“So a lumbar puncture, then,” Arianna said. “How long do you think it will take?”
“Well, we’ll have to put the whole solution containing the cells into a sterile bag and let it drain,” Sam said. He looked at the doctor. “What do you think?”
Dr. Ericson was nodding. “We’ll have to make sure to squeeze the bag very gently, so as not to increase the pressure in her spinal cord too quickly.” He looked meaningfully at Arianna, who was already wincing.
“I know,” she said. “I’m going to wind up with the migraine of my life.”
“How come?” Emily asked.
“The change in pressure. But that’s fine—trust me, I’m not complaining.”
“So how long do you think it’ll take?” Sam asked.
Dr. Ericson considered. “How many milliliters?”
“About three hundred,” Sam said.
“Then the bag should take about forty-five minutes to drain. I’ll have to hold the needle completely steady in her spine.” He held up his hands so they were level with his nose. “No shaking yet,” he noted proudly.
“I would hope not,” Sam said. “So what’s the plan, then?”
“Come to the clinic Friday night, and we’ll funnel the solution into the bag and set up the rest of the equipment before Arianna gets there.”
“Fine.”
“What about anesthesia?” Emily asked.
Sam looked at Arianna, who was spreading cream cheese on a bagel as if she had not a care in the world. “I don’t know what effect that would have on the cells,” he said.
“It’s fine.” She barely hesitated. “I can deal.”
“We can have it on reserve if you decide you really need it,” Dr. Ericson offered. “It should be safe to use an IV sedative at least.”
“Okay,” she said. “But pain isn’t the worst thing ever.”
“Technically, they’re your own cells,” Sam pointed out. “So I wouldn’t expect any bad reactions, would you?”
Dr. Ericson shook his head. “But we are moving into uncharted territory.”
“I think we’re pretty much in it,” Emily said.
Arianna smiled at her. “In the best way possible.”
“So you’re not scared?” With her girlish sloped nose and widened eyes, Emily looked much younger than mid-forties. Sam wondered how much younger he looked than sixty-seven.
“Honestly? Not in the least.” Arianna chuckled at Emily’s surprise. “Okay, maybe slightly. But it’s the kind of
